


Decisions, For Better or Worse

by Kaarie



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Angsty(I Hope), Domestic conflict, Dramatic(I Hope), F/F, F/M, Funny(I hope), Haruno Family Shenanigans, Incompetently-managed Akatsuki who are actually vigilantes, Insanely Corrupt Konoha Council, Loyal Ninjas Gone Rogue, M/M, Manchild Kizashi Haruno, Other, Papa-Bear Kakashi, Pessimistic Naruto, Strong Haruno Sakura, Tags May Change, some gender changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaarie/pseuds/Kaarie
Summary: What if Sakumo didn't kill himself? What if Fugaku had a big plan of his own? What if Rasa didn't want to seal Shukaku into Gaara while he was in the womb?All of these decisions, and more, can make a world of difference.
Relationships: (One-sided)Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto, (One-sided)Hyuuga Neji/Haruno Sakura, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Rock Lee/Haruno Sakura, Tenten/Uzumaki Naruto, Yamanaka Ino/Original Female Character
Kudos: 6





	1. Strategic Withdrawal

**Author's Note:**

> First story posted here! Gonna cross-post my old stories from ff.net later in the year(after I fix those garbage heaps).
> 
> So yeah.... this is basically like a 'coin-flip' AU where some of the most major decisions are made differently. Only some, though. But that's all you need, right? This will start off jumping all around the timeline in the first 4 or 5 chapters or so. After that though, it will more or less stay in one straight line.
> 
> I actually plan on trying to add in some illustrations in later chapters, because I've seen a few stories with those and they were pretty cool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can Sakumo do when he returns to the village a failure?

Kakashi jittered noticeably in his seat at the front of the class as he swung his short legs back and forth in anticipation. His father was expected to return from his mission later today, and he promised to show off some of his jutsu to some of his academy friends once he turned in his report. He can't wait to show off his dad to everyone.

They're gonna be jealous!

Finally, the sensei dismissed the class and he ran off without a second thought. It felt like mere minutes had passed by the time he'd made it to the village gates, although with his speed, it probably _did_ only take a few minutes. The two guards keeping watch jumped slightly at the sudden appearance of a silver-haired child in front of their booth, hopping on his little toes, then settled into a boisterous laughter.

One of the guards called out to him, "So you know your Papa's coming back today, huh, little Hatake?"

Kakashi simply quickened his tiny hops as a response.

The ninjas laughed again. "Well, just know that we don't know for sure what exact time his squad's supposed to be back. They could come back in the middle of the night, for all we—"

A flash of gray and black passed between the adults and the child. A dust cloud flew up in its wake and led up to the now stationary form laying no more than forty feet past the gates. The guards sprung into action, each brandishing a kunai and jumping to each side of the figure to surround him. "Get back, little Hatake!" The guard that spoke before yelled.

Kakashi was about to listen to the older ninja when his eye caught something that gave him pause. In an instant he was within five feet of the figure. The non-speaking guard ground his teeth and made a dive to get the child away. Kakashi hopped into the air just before the hit could connect, and landed right in front of the figure.

With no hesitation, he slapped his hands onto the face of the crouched figure and turned it upwards to face him. "Father!" He squeaked, distressed.

The two guards paused, then lowered their weapons, approaching cautiously. "White Fang-sama. . .?" The talky guard started, "Is that you. . .?"

Sakumo lifted his head. Large bruises that forced his left eye closed covered almost half of his face. Countless puncture wounds from Senbon littered his face, each surrounded by dried blood streaks. A large, deep cut streamed from beneath his chin, past his lips, and veered across his nose bridge, ending just above his right eyebrow. His hair spilled over his face sloppily, fresh sweat forcing some strands to stick to his face, as his gaze switched back and forth from the image of his confused and fearful son to his last remaining squad mates in each of his arms.

The ninjas were barely breathing. The female ninja tucked under his left arm was barely grasping onto the world of the living, though she visibly didn't look anywhere near as bad as Sakumo did. Her face and body were void of almost all signs of battle, save for her extremely paled skin and a large gash going down her arm that seemed to leak some type of purple fluid.—Poison, Kakashi guessed. And the short male ninja underneath Sakumo's right arm was in a similar condition.

"Get them to the hospital," Sakumo suddenly yelled, "Don't just stand around! What, are you two still in the academy?! Hurry up! I can't take them any further!"

The guards flinched. "Y-Yes! Of course, White Fang-Sama!"

They nearly tripped over themselves as one guard gathered the two unconscious ninjas in his arms while the other pulled Sakumo onto his back.

Kakashi was left standing there in a frozen panic. He could do nothing but watch his father and his last remaining squad mates being carried off towards the hospital.

What could have gone so wrong?

* * *

The hospital wouldn't let him stay the night, so Kakashi found himself laying dazed and awake on the futon he and his father shared as the sun rose from the East.

He stood on weakened legs. The thought of breakfast crossed his mind for a moment and his stomach gurgled. But no, he couldn't trust that he wouldn't vomit it back up with so much worry on his mind.

The female ninja. . . She hadn't even lasted the hour in the hospital.

The young male ninja was still in critical condition by the time the hospital staff sent him home. It had taken him a while, but Kakashi had eventually recognized the guy to be the rising star Jonin that his father had been telling him about for months. His name was. . . Kouta Satoshi, or something like that. Father had been intrigued by Satoshi's supposed prodigious skill with fuinjutsu and fuinjutsu traps. He could identify, analyze, and disable a seal-based trap within moments.—Or so his father claimed. He even had a fuinjutsu-based weapon he'd crafted himself that intimidated the village's best ninjas, and even the Hokage!— _Or so his father claimed_.

Before he'd left the previous day, in the little time he had to visit with his father, he'd even mentioned to Kakashi that they wouldn't have gotten away without Satoshi. Apparently, he'd identified that they were about to walk into a giant trap that had been expertly camouflaged into the environment.

It was actually a little funny, Kakashi had to admit. Sakumo had said that Satoshi wasn't originally supposed to attend the mission. But the guy was a _big_ fan of Sakumo, and was somehow able to nag the Hokage into adding him in so he could go on a mission with him for the first time. He wasn't supposed to be there, but he may have been to sole reason his father survived.

_"Whichever nukenin created that seal had to have been under some serious, official tutelage at some point," said Sakumo from his lying position on the hospital bed. "Perhaps the 'High Priestess of Sealing Art' in Yugakure. . .? If anyone would mindlessly teach a nukenin their technique, it would be her. She's rumored to have recklessly low standards when taking on new pupil."_

_The elder Hatake's face had hardened and his gaze fell onto a random spot, kilometers in the distance as he slipped further into his analytic, almost trance-like state. Kakashi had almost rolled his eyes when he noticed the shift_ — _he hated when his father got like this while talking to him. "What a thoughtless pride that ink-monger has! Maybe Hokage-Sama will allow me to track her down at some point. . .? Yes, he has to. She's definitely gotta be connected to this_ — _he'd have to. . ."_

_After struggling to get his father to focus back onto the original conversation, Sakumo continued on with his recollection of the mission. His team of six was seconds away from being frozen where they stood and left helpless at the hands of their enemies when Satoshi spotted the trap, and reacted like second nature. A quick series of hand signs followed by a gust of wind, and the design of the seal was sufficiently disrupted. Following it up with breaking up a bit of the inscription with a chakra-laced foot for good measure, Satoshi had crossed his arms triumphantly with his pride shining brighter than the sun. They were safe._

_They were safe, from the_ seal _._

Kakashi shuddered as he remembered what his father told him about what happened next. He'd never seen such anger come from the man.

_A humorless laugh escaped Sakumo's lips before he described the onslaught that proceeded. A team of at least thirty nukenin erupted from the forest surrounding them. "Our intel told us it was a band of twelve." He growled between gritted teeth. "Four A-Rank nin and six B-Rank nin!—That's what they said! It was meant to be a simple route clearing mission! We were meant to take out ten nukenin to make a safe passage to the secret base near the Land of Rivers! There wasn't supposed to be that high of a resistance!"_

_A shaking fist slammed down onto the flimsy bed rail, leaving an angry dent. Kakashi flinched away from the threatening action. Sakumo's rant continued as he glared down at nothing, saying, "There had to be at least three S-Rank nukenin in that group! The rest were undoubtedly A-Ranked! We were led into a slaughter!. . ."_

_The weight of the room lifted a little as the man reigned in his outrage and exchanged it with the thoughtful disposition he had earlier. "It just doesn't make any sense, Pup," he continued, "Our intel should not have been so wrong. . ."_

The end of his father's recollection bothered Kakashi the most. He absolutely agreed; the intel should very much _not_ have been so wrong. So why was it, then?

His first theory was that there's a traitor in Konaha's ranks. However, Kakashi thought that would probably be a bit too unbelievable of an answer. Who would betray Konoha? But the alternative to that assumption didn't seem much better — the alternative being that there was some incompetence along the way.

It pained him that those two options are the only truly plausible ones available.

* * *

Almost one month after his father's return, Kakashi found himself standing in front of Satoshi outside of the academy. Having only taken one poison-stained wound as they were making their retreat from the brutal assault, he was the quickest one to be treated and healed. Unlike him, the female ninja — whose name was Suzuya Kou, Kakashi later found out — was poisoned near the very beginning of the battle.

The two stood across from each other with nothing but a tense silence hovering between them. Neither wanted to be the first to speak — at least, not about what they both know they must talk about.

"I," Kakashi began to speak. He bit his tongue quickly, however, as his sentence died along the way. He sighed. His clenched, then un-clenched his fist. Dirt clumped underneath his nails as he ground his uncovered toes into the dry soil. Finally, Kakashi sighed once more and hardened his gaze at the elder ninja before him. "I can walk home myself, Kouta-San." His tone was terse and dismissive, confident that his message was conveyed.

"Yes, you _can_ ," Satoshi murmured.

Suddenly, the younger ninja's slightly leery demeanor spiked into agitation. It was just as he'd been anticipating all day while in class; Satoshi's going to walk with him anyway, _again_. Ever since he'd left the hospital, he'd come by everyday to walk with Kakashi as he made his way with the intention of pushing a conversation that the boy couldn't comprehend that he'd ever have to take part in. It was ludicrous! This shouldn't be happening! Nothing should have to be said about this, and yet, these people, these _fucking ungrateful apes_ , had the audacity to—

"I'm not waiting any longer." Satoshi's words cut through the boy's inner tirade, and Kakashi's eyes snapped back up to him, his scowl not leaving his young concealed face. The older ninja continued, "Sakumo-Sempai hasn't been able to talk to you himself, so it has to be me. I think it's unfair as well, Kit. But we have to get this taken care of. I will give you the benefit of waiting until we're inside your home before we speak."

As if to finalize his statement, Satoshi half-turned sharply on his heel to allow Kakashi access to the outside of the academy gate.

They began their walk in silence. Every now and again, Kakashi would have to push himself closer to the older man to avoid a sloppily-concealed attempt by some random villager at tripping him or nudging something into his path for him to run into. But Kakashi continued to walk with pride, unmoved by the petty behavior. If they want to quell their outrage on a _child_ over a mission gone wrong, over something that happens _all the time_ to _other ninjas_ , that's fine with him! Nobody can understand the concept of a _strategic retreat_ , it seems! Oh, that's cute. It looks like somebody decided to 'accidentally' transfer their miso soup from their bowl to the surface of his back! And another politely deposited their shaved ice treat to the side of his neck! Whatever! It's not like he cared!

By the time they reached the end of the street, five more kindly donated food items decorated his body and his shining confidence had dulled. Tears threatened to spill over his eyes. His willpower was almost completely depleted, and they weren't even halfway to his home.

" _Ne_ , Hatake-kun," Satoshi said just loud enough for only the younger one to hear. The boy looked up at him and saw him gesturing toward a shadow-heavy back alley. He paused and gave Satoshi an inquisitive look, then he followed him into the side path.

They stopped behind the worn-out shed posted up halfway down, blocking them from the main street's view. "What is it?" Kakashi asked.

Satoshi gave him no words, however. He merely lifted one side of his armored waist cape and vaguely pointed down.

Kakashi winced at the suggestion and quickly scrambled to voice his objection. "No, no," he said, "I'm fine, Kouta-san. It's no different toda—"

A sudden flick on his forehead ended his sentence prematurely. It didn't hurt, but it made him jump. Then he bristled.

This wasn't the first time the older ninja had suggested that he hid under his waist cape, though it seemed this will be the first time he won't accept a 'no.'

That damn cape. . . Once upon a time, back before Satoshi received all of his promotions — before Kakashi was even born — his armored cape was the only thing he was known for. Despite the fact that the vast majority of his superiors at the time thought the thing was way too dangerous for him to have, he'd somehow gotten away with wearing it through his Genin and Chunin years. How _could_ they tell him he couldn't have it?—He'd created it, after all. But everyone put their foot down when he became Jonin. It was a miracle, really. They'd managed to appeal to his sense of logic by citing the technicality (the _very_ _nonexistent_ technicality) that Jonin level ninjas had a higher standard to conform to the basic infantry outfit paired with a flack jacket.

When he'd suddenly showed up wearing the thing the second time he appeared to walk him home, Kakashi immediately knew this issue was going to trail on _forever_.

It was a bit of a shock to the man himself, though. Satoshi had never seen himself as a sympathizing person. But walking his way home with the image of a blubbering, sobbing child covered in trash and food and _who knows_ what else running into an empty house was enough to move him, it seemed.

Why did he have to receive the curse of empathy at such a stressful time? That's what he wondered since the very moment he'd decided walking his Sempai's child home was a good ide—. . . well, was _an_ idea.

The abuse from the villagers had died down greatly since then, but that first day Satoshi was out of the hospital — the first day they walked together — was _brutal_. Kakashi had already known of the contempt that was building up amongst the populace, but they'd only been whispers in the corners of his hearing. Everyone had something to say, but not to his face.

Something about the elder ninja's presence seemed to flip a switch, though, and they made that first walk home into a walk of chaos.

_It started off with a unintelligible yell from the distance, followed by a big chocolate mochi ball smacking Kakashi in the face. Both he and his escort were stunned by the hit._

_Then there was silence._

_But in the seconds following, the air was flooded with vitriolic shouts. Vulgar insults and threats were thrown at the both of them, but mostly toward Kakashi and his father's name._

_Accusations of cowardice, incompetence, and betrayal were just a few subjects that were hurled at Satoshi. But it was the suggestions that his survival through being saved was proof the he was the reason their mission failed that pushed his temper into exploding. He'd grabbed at his scroll-tipped staff with the full intention of enacting crowd control in the classical way._

_But he stopped._

_He stopped when he heard what was being yelled at his Sempai's child._

Satoshi bristled as he recalled the disgusting words that were yelled at the boy. No child should ever have to hear the nasty remarks that was thrown at him that day, and the days proceeding.

_"Your father spineless urchin!"_

_"A mistake like you should've been killed at birth!"_

_"You'll both be hanged in the fucking streets!"_

_To be completely honest, they weren't the worst things Satoshi had heard in all his years. Not even close. Hell, they weren't even creative! But this was the first time he'd heard such a level of tawdry language being directed at a child.—No less, at his own Sempai's child._

_His eyes snapped down to the boy in question, and his frame was still. For a moment, just a moment, he was standing tall and proud in the face of such overwhelming contempt. His out of place maturity had granted him a shield against what would have broken any other child the very second the onslaught began._

_But i_ _t was only for a few moments._

 _When the second food item struck him in the back of his head_ — _a boiling-hot bowl of ramen, if he remembered correctly_ — _the boy shook. Then he dropped to his knees. He heaved and gasped and sobbed, giving in to his natural child side. A waterfall of tears spilled from him, and finally, he collapsed onto his side in a mess of cries._

_The explosion of a fresh watermelon at the side of his face pulled Satoshi back to attention, then he was instantly in motion. He scooped the child into his arms and took off down the street. Viscera of people's meals and trash bins flew at them like a storm of leaves being blowing in the wind. He searched frantically for a break in the crowd to jump onto a roof without hurting somebody. But everywhere he went, the crowd was too thick. "Fucking bastards!" he cursed out of frustration._

_It took a full five minutes, but Satoshi finally managed to enter a less 'polluted' stretch of their route. From that point on, making his way to the boy's home was relatively undisturbed._

_Kakashi's sobbing had painfully intensified beyond where it started, and he was covered in so much grime that he was dripping. The convulsions from his crying shook his body so hard that it forced coughs out of his mouth every now and again. Satoshi stood silently, completely at a loss of what to do for the first time in years. He'd anticipated backlash against himself and Sakumo, but to his boy? His heart hung heavy in his chest as he continued to watch the child struggle to stay on his feet._

_Finally, the older ninja made an attempt. "H-Hey. . ." he mumbled. His voice quivered with uncertainty. Then he continued, "Do you. . . want me to come in with you?"_

_Kakashi shook his head wildly. "N-No! No! No! No! Noo!" His voice wobbled uncontrollably. "I_ — _! I-I want_ — _! I w-want my D-Dad! I want my Daddy!"_

_Satoshi almost picked the boy up and took him to the hospital right there. But he sighed when he remembered why he couldn't. Sakumo still had traces of poison in his system that reacted badly with some new medication the doctors put him on. They had to call Tsunade back up to treat him and he'd been in intensive care since then, and intensive care doesn't do visitors._

_Steeling himself, Satoshi placed his hand on the boy's shoulder to attempt consoling him again. Before he could speak, however, Kakashi smacked his hand away and ran into his house and slammed the door behind him, leaving the other standing speechless at the head of the walkway. With nothing else to do, he turned and made his way back to his apartment in a daze._

_The day after, Satoshi had shown up with his armored cape in place, standing in the same spot to take Kakashi home again_.

"Hatake-kun, I am seasoned in patience, your stalling will not phase me." Satoshi's voice cut through Kakashi's mind and made him flinch. He hadn't even realized he'd zoned out.

The boy held silently onto the other's leg. His eyes wandered mindlessly around the street, or what he could see of the street through the thin slit of the cape. Every once in a while, he could see the remnant of some filth-covered projectile dripping from above as his transporter is pelted along their route. It made him sick. But he knew it was unavoidable at this time. And he knew that if he was visible, it would be far worse.

Thankfully, he saw the image of his home approaching soon enough. Satoshi opened the door, and Kakashi was on the other side of the room in the same second. The boy attempted to further put off their conversation by immediately moving to tidy-up the entree way. But Satoshi said a firm 'no', and picked him up by the nape of the neckline of his shirt.

They sat on the futon in the living room silently. Kakashi refused to look him, electing to turn the other way with his arms crossed instead.

". . . You are hard-headed, Kit," Satoshi began after a while. The child scooted away a bit at the sound of the nickname the other had given him. "Very hard-headed, boy. So I know all this hatred people are sending you will not shake the faith you have in your father and your family name."

Satoshi wrapped an arm around the younger ninja's torso and pulled him against his form. Kakashi struggled for a second, but he stopped quickly when the grip tightened.

The man's hold was a bit rigid, and he was clearly uncomfortable. Trying to find the words and actions to give emotional support, especially to a child, was kind of. . . lost to him. Nevertheless, he continued on, saying, "But you still feel, right? So _let_ yourself feel. Right now, while I'm here. I know you wanna cry, Kit. We can cry together. Is that alright?"

Kakashi ground his teeth together and began struggling once more.

"Stop it, Pup—"

Upon hearing the nickname his father granted him, the boy shifted around. He shouted, "Don't call me that!" His voice was strained, signalling that he was near tears once again.

Satoshi flinched. Yeah, there was bad reaction he didn't want to cause. ". . . You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. I overstepped, should _not_ have said that." In hindsight, he probably should've known he wouldn't want someone else to call him by the nickname his father uses on him.

Silence settled between them once again as they both stole time to consider what to say next.

But in just a few moments, Satoshi ran his fingers through the young ninja's hair and said, "Alright Kit, let's just be done with this. It's not going to get much better any time soon. I _want_ to be able to tell you that it will, but that would just be setting false expectations for you. And you really don't need any more disappointment at this point, do ya?" His teeth clenched. "Listen Kit, _honor_ is the reigning essence of the shinobi world. And according to everything we're taught in the academy and our lives as ninjas, coming back from a failure _alive_ was dishonorable! But ya' know what?"

Kakashi pensively turned his head up toward the man. "What?!" The boy asked, curtly.

" _I_ don't give a shit about honor!" Satoshi's voice elevated with passion, shaking the room with his conviction. "I never cared about honor! You have any idea what exactly _'honor'_ has done in my lifetime, Kit? It's left comrades dying in vain! Broken up families with all their means to life destroyed! I have been returning to an empty home since I was eight years old, because of _fucking honor_!"

Without warning, the man flipped Kakashi to face him in his lap. Had Satoshi's expression not been overtaken by such an intense, grim shadow, the boy would have lashed out at him again.

"And what has honor done to _you_?"

Kakashi hesitated. Seconds passed as he debated in his mind whether or not he was meant to actually answer the question. But seeing as how what the elder ninja was referring to was obvious, he bitterly held his tongue.

Satoshi scoffed in anticipation for what he's going to say next. "And there's another thing that honor is gonna do to you," he whispered. He laid his hand gently atop the child's head. Gray locks danced between his fingers as he smoothed the hair back. When the nerves running through his body was finally too much, he spoke again, "It's gonna make you lose your father."

A gasp broke through from the youngling's lips and he made a move to stand from the man's lap once again.

"Let me explain, Kit," said Satoshi. He wasn't looking forward to telling him about this, even less so than he was to tell him about the reality of his situation. Was he being too blunt? Maybe he shouldn't have phrased it like that. "Firstly, your father and I have been talking intently for the past week during your class hours. I know you hadn't mentioned what's been going on whenever you visit him, that's why I had to tell him _myself_."

That earned him a glare from Kakashi. Quickly, however, the child softened his face and looked away in shame.

"But next is something a bit more important. See, we've put a lot of thought into this. Looked at the possible ramifications and all, ya' know? Of course you know. And you know your father's a smart man. We even got the Hokage to speak with us about it, too. Well. . . more like he _knew_ something was up and he came in himself."

The boy's eyes narrowed more and more at the adult at each passing second. " _This is too drawn out. What is he getting at?_ " he thought.

"It was actually a big help in getting us to settle on a proper plan. And. . . And, well. . ." Satoshi sighed. "Look, just know this Kit, both Sarutobi-Sama and I tried as hard as we could to talk Sakumo-Sempai into doing something else. . ."

Kakashi was getting nervous now. There were way too many detracting statements in a row being fired off at him. Just how big is this news?

"Sakumo-Sempai. . . He's going to ' _retire_ ' and leave the village."

The numbness took over instantly.

"He _would_ just leave out-right, in fact, save a little time. But, you know, if he did that, he'd be labeled as a missing-nin — essentially a traitor in the eyes of Konoha law. He'd be hunted and that would be a problem. . ." Satoshi continued explaining, but Kakashi wasn't listening anymore.

He hadn't exactly visited his father everyday, but he did visit _almost_ everyday. They talked about his studies, his training, his sensei, his developing skills. Talked about Sakumo's recovery, what happened during the mission, all the ninja that died. His father had even managed to get him to admit that he hadn't been eating properly balanced meals.

They talked so much.

They talked so much, but his father didn't tell him.

* * *

" _Remember, Pup, you represent yourself now. It's clear that my presence is intolerable for the village at this point, and I've come to terms with that. But that mission was a disaster that needs to be corrected. You have to understand this Pup.—I need to do this! And I also need you to understand that I may very well not survive. And in the case that I do die, you need to be prepared for my name to not be put up in memorial. I know this feels unfair to you, Pup. To put it frankly; it **is**_ _unfair to you. This is a selfish act I'm doing right now_ — _leaving you here alone to pursue a challenge that I'll most likely lose._

 _"But trust me, Pup, when you grow into a fine shinobi years from now, you'll understand why this happened. If there's anything you need, the clan will still be here for y—. . . Well, they'll still be **here**. And if not, then you know where Kouta-san lives. I love you, son._"

Those were the final words Kakashi had heard from his father before he turned around on his heel and walked straight out of the village. That was three weeks, two days, eight hours and fourteen minutes ago.

Ever since his father left, the villagers harassed him less and less — though, he couldn't tell if it was simply because of Sakumo's lack of presence, or if everybody just lost their hype and decided not to expend their energy on him now. Granted, it was a slow and gradual process. The few who he'd had any true issues with nowadays were a handful of his classmates. Thankfully, his show of skill had persuaded many of his peers to reconsider their persecution.

Now he found himself sitting in his usual spot in class, preparing to take the final test. Their sensei spat out some garbage about how it was just a test to reflect how well they learned throughout their time in the academy, but he knew that wasn't all it was. One part self-reflection, one part personality evaluation, one part technique and strategy overview, and all parts team determination. After today will be one more week of pure training, then team assignments and graduation.

And for what, exactly?

For people to whisper behind his back about his father's _'shameful cowardice'?_ How his own ability will never matter since he carries his father's _'ineptitude'_ with him? What would happen if he were ever to go on a mission with Kouta-san? Would they be marked off as a cursed pair?

He was merely five years old, and he'd already been shaken by many years worth of cruel reality and callous vilification hitting him all at once.

And he was just going to respond to that treatment with. . . _life-threatening servitude_. . .?

Before he could take another moment to reflect to himself, he stood from his spot — name half-written on his test — and silently walked to the front of the class. His sensei glanced up at him boredly. It seemed the boy had interrupted some casual reading, or some other unimportant shit. Several of his older classmates noticed his movement and watched him, half-interested, between writing answers onto their own papers. They likely assumed he'd finished early, like he'd done with so many tests in the past.

Kakashi and his sensei stared at each other wordlessly for a few moments. ". . . Do you need something, Hatake-kun?" the elder ninja finally asked.

The boy continued to stare at him without a word, as he'd not thought about an explanation. A few more awkward seconds ticked by before he finally responded with, "Life. . . Life is _complicated_. . . isn't it?"

The sensei raised a brow at this. The few students in the front who could hear him stopped paying attention to their tests at his words, each having a similar thought.

_'Is there something wrong with the prodigy kid?'_

Even the Uchiha boy had to stop for a moment to take a glance at the front of the room.

"It sure can be," the sensei finally responded. "Especially for a ninja."

"And fast, too. . . Right?"

No response.

"Tiring. . . Demanding. . . Strange. . . _Crushing_ ," Kakashi continued. His strange words had finally won the attention of the remainder of his class, and they were all now leering at him, trying to understand what point he was trying to make.

The adult, finally acknowledging the underlying distress in the child's behavior, sat his book down onto his desk and leaned forward intently. He carefully folded his fingers together and asked, "Is there something you need to tell me, Hatake-kun?"

The question made Kakashi pause in thought for just a moment. _Was_ there something he needed to say to him. . .?

Yes.

"Complicated. . . tiring, demanding, strange, crushing. . . Too much for me. . . I tried to grow up too early. . ." he trailed off, absently. A foggy haze fell over his eyes and he stared off into space, looking at nothing. His peers waited on baited breath for what he was going to say next, tests completely forgotten by now.

After a solid minute of vague stillness, Kakashi spoke again, "I. . . I think. . . No, I-I _don't_ think I. . . want to be a ninja anymore."

Had everyone not been so at a loss, a collective _gasp_ would have filled the room.

Not wanting to stick around for anyone to attempt to get him to change his mind on the matter, the boy swiftly dropped his test on the table and rushed out of the room.

As he retreated pitifully down the hallway, he could hear his now ex-sensei's steady, unimpressed voice drone out, "Unless the rest of you are all planning on running with your tails tucked as well, finish your tests."

Satoshi treated him with dinner and spent the night at his home for the rest of that week.


	2. Jutsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fugaku needs to prepare for his second child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing, some parts of this chapter, I think, gets a little complicated. Well, it READS a little complicated, I think. Hopefully it's understandable.
> 
> But if it is hard to understand, please, tell me. I will gladly rewrite it. Thank you.

_Itachi was making astronomical advances in the academy. Taking the initiative to start up his own training at a young age and his strong insistence that he enroll in the academy early had certainly put a lot of admiring eyes from his fellow clansmen on him._

_It was...problematic._

_No doubt both the boy's future Sensei and peers would have put him in high regard. Chuunin and Jonin would have noticed him soon enough from there. Then the Hokage. Then the village Elders. His own clansmen had whispered that he would've reached Anbu status by the time he hit his teenage years. Someone would have to be either a complete imbecile or in denial to have not realized that Itachi was on the path to become one of the most elite ninjas of his time._

_And Itachi loved his village. And Fugaku loved his sons._

_Just how devastating would it have been to Itachi if he'd had to choose between his village and his clan...? How devastating would it have been to Fugaku if he'd had to choose between his clan and his son...?_

_He'd started on the first day of Winter._

* * *

Fugaku held his wife as she cried for half an hour that morning, gently clutching onto her minimally swollen stomach. She'd known Fugaku's plan would have to commence eventually, but the arrival of the beginning was no less crushing. Itachi had caught them, staring at them from the open doorway for a few moments. He'll have to talk to him. Perhaps on another day, however. Today required too much focus.

As he strolled the streets of Konaha, a chunin, maybe in his mid-twenties, jogged up from behind him and into his view. "Uchiha-sama," said the young man, voice slightly out of breath, "I am lucky to have come across you!"

Fugaku _hmm_ 'ed in the classical Uchiha way and responded with, "And why is that?"

The younger man's smile widened. "I've just been trying to find a chance to thank you for weeks now! It's a good thing your robe is such a distinct red! It stood out so much!-I would have never noticed you otherwise!"

Fugaku glanced down at his robe, that he _knew_ was blue.

Good start, but he didn't remember this ninja to have been an expert on genjutsu. Very little had been gained from this interaction.

No matter, this trial had only just begun after all.

Fugaku proceeded to have a friendly chat with the chunin for a few minutes, then continued on about his day. Several of his comrades in arms who were also off-duty for the day stopped him later on. Three saw red, one saw blue.—She was a genjutsu specialist in training, so now he knew where he stood.

Where he stood, _for now_.

He'd given her the excuse that he'd decided to use on any who questioned him; that he was trying to develop a new method in training genjutsu. It was a simple explanation. It was normal, unassuming — just basic enough to be believable. She'd smiled at him in admiration, saying how she hoped he was successful and that he should consider using the ' _new method_ ' to help in her own training one day.

Hopefully she'll spread the word.

When he finally returned to the Uchiha compound after sundown, his ruse was spotted immediately. Not surprising, this _was_ his clan.

One of his younger cousins, Naomichi, happened to have been walking out of the gates when he entered. For just a second, Fugako thought the teen wouldn't even acknowledge it. But as they locked eyes with each other, the younger Uchiha tensed her body for just a moment, as if she were preparing to attack.

 _Noted_.

"O-Oh! Fu-jukei! What's that you're doing with your robe?"

Questions right away? Well, Naomichi must be pressed for time. So _he_ must be pressed for time as well.

"I'm developing a new method in training genjutsu," the elder responded, "Today was the beginning of my experiments."

Naomichi is not fooled, she knows there's more to this. Good. She can pull her hair out trying to figure out his true intentions, then. Today was just a small step. But by the time his second child graces the Earth with their presence, he'll hardly remember times like this where anyone — even his own kinfolk — could spot this justu.

* * *

Three months of experimentation have passed. Mikoto is five months along in her pregnancy, but is still not showing much through her clothes — the baby will be small. But that was the least of his concerns right now.

This genjutsu he'd been developing; it was meant to function quite differently than most other illusionary jutsus. Rather than simply layering the justu visually upon an area or enemy, this genjustu will behave closer to a dimensional shift. Admittedly, it could potentially become a very dangerous technique. But for now, it's performing quite agreeably.

He'd begun experimenting with using the jutsu on human subjects just the previous month, starting with the genjutsu specialist in training he'd talked with on the first day. At this rate, he'll have perfected it months before his next child is born.

Speaking of which, they've almost made it to their testing location.

Naomichi trailed slowly behind as they entered training ground 13, doing her best to appear casual, uninterested. The 17 year old had asked to come watch his training because she ' _had nothing else to do today, and, well, it'll probably do your training good to see how it stacks up against someone else's Shraingan_ '.

Quite frankly, Fugaku actually had to agree with that point. But the teen was clearly becoming more suspicious. Although, that was a very on-the-spot sounding excuse to come with him. Perhaps she didn't know that he'd already moved on to testing with people?

"Ah, Uchiha-san! You've brought Naomichi-chan today! Your new jutsu's gaining popularity, it seems," the woman said as she stood straight from her leaning position.

" _'New jutsu', eh? Before, he said it was a 'new method',_ " thought Naomichi. So her suspicions were correct, then.

"Ah-huh," murmured Fugaku. He wasted no time and opened up the bag he was carrying. "As usual," he started as he reached in, "We will be starting with an item." With that, he pulled out the small, blue and gold porcelain vase. The woman couldn't help but chuckle at the man's forwardness.

Naomichi, however, raised a brow. She subtly squared her shoulders and walked around so that he could get a clear view of the decorative piece sitting between her cousin and the genjutsu specialist. ' _This is it_ ,' she thought, ' _I just need to pay close attention._ '

Admittedly, she didn't think Fugaku would agree to let her come and watch him perform this jutsu in person. There was no way that the man wasn't suspicious of her intentions at this point.

But, when Naomichi really thought about it, it did kind of make sense. It could be highly possible that Fugaku believed being open about this 'new way of training genjutsu' would minimize or absolve any suspicion... Either way, this opportunity will be pivotal in her investigation.

She activated her Sharingan.

The two adults stood stoically across from each other, blue and gold vase sitting between them. Then, the seals began. Naomichi's eyes narrowed in on Fugaku.

The sequence of hand seals that followed were long, but oddly simple. And it had a strange inclusion of multiple elemental hand seals on top of that. Water and ice with lightening and earth and wood, and even fire as well...? Hmph, no matter. What mattered was what it does.

Naomichi idly glanced down at the object of focus and... Huh... Was it a dud? Was Fugaku just practicing the hand seals and not actually preforming the jutsu just then? No no, Naomichi definitely felt a pulse of chakra signalling the use of the jutsu. What the hell was going on then? Yes, her Sharingan was already activated, but she still would have noticed some sort of disruption despite that fact. Hmm, perhaps it wasn't the color of the vase that was being altered?

Fugaku casually took in his cousin's reaction from the corner of his eye, but his eyes still remained on the green and brown vase. "Hmmm," the man hummed quietly and he reached into his flack jacket, pulling the small scrap of paper out from his inside pocket. His eyes skimmed the first line of text at the top; ' _The vase was blue with gold trim_ ,' it read.

And _that_ was the nature of the jutsu. It didn't merely cast a veil of illusion on the object, or a trickery of the mind. No: it changed the history of the item entirely. Everyone who _has_ ever, or who _will_ ever touch, see, or even hear of this one particular vase will perceive it to have been green and brown the entire time. As far as the world is concerned, it was _never_ blue and gold.

After a minute, Fugaku leaned down with a faux-disappointed sigh and placed the vase back into the bag. "Let's try something else," he said, layering exasperation into his voice as he pulled out a shuriken.

That's how the next hour went along; Fugaku casting the jutsu on various small objects, changing their weight, color, shape, and so on over an over again, checking his note every time and feigning failure as Naomichi became more and more visibly frustrated, and the genjutsu specialist plastered on a sympathetic smile.

"Alright," Fukagu said with authority as he placed the last item back into his bag, "That was everything I brought. Now I'll set the jutsu on you, and that will be our last attempt for the day."

By now, Naomichi was cross-legged on the ground, fingers roughly massaging her temple and teeth clenching bitterly. Why even bother testing it on her at this point? It wasn't working! This was beyond frustrating to watch!

Nevertheless, the teen stayed in place as she needed to keep an eye on any sign of progress.

The hand seals flew from Fugaku's hands with expert speed at this point _,_ then the pulse of chakra _._ Finally, Naomichi can leave. Gods, she thought he was going to die from boredom! Readying herself to depart, the teen stood with a wobble as she lazily glanced at the woman to check for any oddities.

Then she spotted it.

Her blue eyes—no, brown. No, blue! The color of her irises continued to flicker between the two with, what seemed to be, a hazy mass of shifting mirror shards dancing around her eyes. Naomichi stood there, perplexed. It. . . was suddenly working now? But how?! After not working on a bunch of simple objects, why would it suddenly start working on a live subject? Unless maybe. . .

After a few seconds, the color of her eyes settled on brown.—Not her original color, she believed.

Fugaku noticed the youth's sudden alertness. It seems the young lady was finally able to comprehend the jutsu's usage. Well, it didn't matter much. Even when being spotted, this could still be passed off as minimal progress. He produced the paper from his inside pocket a final time and read the last line, ' _Her eyes are blue_ '. Then he looked up at her brown eyes and asked, "Yamada-san, what color are your eyes?"

"Huh?" she gasped, "Oh! Of course! They're. . ." Her eyes seemed to dim as she had trouble recollecting her own features. She spent a few minutes mumbling some indistinguishable words. Why was she so confused right now? "Oh!," she suddenly exclaimed after a while, "They're brown, of course! Yes, brown! S-Sorry, I don't know why I just blanked out for a second there!" She gave a light giggle in embarrassment.

The elder Uchiha closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them, saying, "As usual, the jutsu's performance on your body was clunky and slow-acting. You were convinced much faster than before though, I admit. But it's still not where I want it to be. The last time I changed something on your body, it took 28 hours for you to see through it. Hopefully this will last longer. Be sure to tell me your real eye color as soon as you're sure of it."

For a moment, she seemed confused, then it hit her. "Oh, yes! You _did_ do the jutsu! I'll be mindful, Uchiha-san!" Though she was now aware of what was going on, she still seemed a little gobsmacked and walked her way out of the training ground in a daze.

Naomichi was still stood there with awe slapped on her face, questions swiveling in her head.—Why was it suddenly working? How did it work on a living subject, but not on simple objects? Was this a trick? Did Fugaku purposefully not actually use the jutsu on all the little items he brought just to throw her off? NO!—She'd already concluded that couldn't be!...

She'll have to keep a closer eye on her cousin.

She'd likely not catch on until it was too late, though. Naomichi was under the impression that Fugaku had been restricting himself to these isolated sessions ever since that chunin woman started volunteering to help him. She didn't have any suspicions that Fugaku's hair actually did _not_ have a substantial amount of gray, that the armband bearing the Uchiha clan symbol he was wearing was _not_ on upside-down, that Mikoto was _not_ only one month along in her pregnancy.

The pursuit of perfecting this jutsu was a non-stop endeavor. No slacking. No breaks. Every day, all day, he was changing things all around the village.—The quality of polish on the Uchiha compound gates.—The color of the banner hanging above Ichiraku Ramen.—The height of the fence surrounding the playground at the academy. Everything: altered. Granted, the jutsu hadn't evolved to last longer than a week or two for inanimate objects as of yet.

But that was why he remained diligent.

* * *

Sasuke. Uchiha Sasuke. It was a solid name with a lot of promise. _Strong_. _Respectable_.

It was a shame it will never have use.

His second son was born just two weeks ago with everyone else believing he was early by three, almost four months. Everyone, from Mikoto, to the hospital staff, to the two nurses they had to employ temporarily, took extra special care when handling the boy. In fact, they were so careful that Fugaku thought there could be some potential problems with his out-of-hospital transition. But thankfully, there had been no complications on that front. And Sasuke's ' _oddly good health for being multiple months premature_ ' had put him on line to be outdoor-safe very soon.

So the final phase of his plan is fast approaching.

On the sixth month of his experimentation, he'd bolstered the jutsu enough for them to last almost permanently, lasting even to this day(and he logically concluded that the objects he preformed the jutsu on at even later dates would last even longer). More impressively, the jutsu on a human subject had finally become as undetectable as it was on simple objects.

On the seventh month, he had to fight to understand what his own notes meant. At first he didn't notice. He didn't notice that the notes he wrote himself had anything to do with his experimentation. They were just...notes that he carried around, for some reason. But when it finally hit him, he was ecstatic! It was a good thing he didn't have the thought to throw the notes away, otherwise his plans would have gone belly-up. And that's where the danger of it all really hit him — he'd almost locked _himself_ out of reality.

In the eighth month, he'd concluded that the jutsu had been as perfected as it could possibly be.

But the fear he'd felt the previous month still haunted him. He almost lost it. Lost it all. And he had no backup plan prepared for if he did! So, every day from that point in time was spent making a counter jutsu that would keep himself from being under its effects anymore.

It wasn't _great_ , but it was sufficient in bringing him out of the 'danger zone'. Or at the very least, it brought him back to where the notes were enough again. It will have to do.

Now in the deep, dark, dead of night(or morning, if you prefer), as he looked down on his wife still recovering in their bed, clutching onto a sleeping Sasuke and still not wanting to let go — even after all of his efforts, he still found himself hesitating. But no, this is the time. Naomichi was out on a mission, and the jutsu had altered enough to suppress the level of suspicion from those watching him to an all-time minimum, so this was the most opportune time.

Tears spilled past Mikoto's eyes as Fugaku finally pulled the baby from her arms and left the room quickly. He moved carefully so as to not awaken his son.

Down the hall and to the left, he entered his eldest son's room that was clean and neat, just as he'd told the boy to do that morning. The only light in the room emanated from two candles, one on each of his bedside tables.

Itachi, dressed in his plain sky-blue pajama set, sat on his bed silently, as instructed. He was confused on why his father had asked him to stay up so late, but Fugaku had looked to grim that he couldn't muster the courage to ask.

Upon Fugaku's entree, he looked up with tired eyes. Finally! His father can tell him whatever the heck he wanted from him and let him go to bed!

Then he noticed his new brother in his father's arms. His brow furrowed and he frowned. Wasn't Sasuke supposed to be in his crib already?

"Itachi," Fugaku started, "Put your shoes on and wait by the front door."

What? What for? Was he in trouble for something? Itachi was not one to be unnecessarily combative with his father though, especially when he's acting so serious, so he quietly stood and shuffled toward the door anyway.

When he waddled tiredly into the house's entree hall, he glanced curiously at all the things piled by the front door. What...was this about? By the door were a couple of large travelling bags, some weapons packs, two weather-ready cloaks, folded underneath a change of shoes in both his own and, presumably, his fathers' sizes, and Sasuke's baby bag. Was father taking him on a trip outside the village? Wait, was Sasuke coming with them?! Wasn't he still recovering from—

"Get your shoes on," said his father's voice from behind him.

Immediately after, his father walked by and started putting his own shoes on himself, now dressed in casual travelling attire rather than the bedwear his was donning just a minute before. That wasn't all Itachi noticed though. He also saw that Sasuke was wrapped up in a cozy blanket and tucked into a sturdy sling mounted onto Fugaku.

Okay, Sasuke was definitely coming, then. _Why?_

Still piqued with confusion, Itachi hesitantly slipped a foot into a shoe, quietly asking, "If we're going somewhere, shouldn't I change out my pajamas?"

"If you prefer," Fugaku said absently, "But be quick about it, we must go soon."

Itachi didn't respond, only _slightly_ comforted with receiving an answer. Despite the query, he silently continued to fasten his shoes on rather than go to his room to change. He didn't actually see it as that important anyway. The purpose of their departure was the _real_ pressing matter here, after all.

Without being told to, he followed his father's lead and proceeded to wrap himself in one of the weather resilient cloaks and fasten the smaller of the two travel bags onto his back. Fugaku had taken most of the weapon's packs for himself, but that was okay. The one pack that Itachi strapped onto himself had barely fit anyway.

When the boy stood up to his full height, finally done with getting himself ready, he noticed a lack of baby-bag in the area. His alarm didn't last long though. When his father stood straight once more, a lump on the left side of his waist jutted out from underneath the cloak. It seemed like a lot for his father to carry all on his own. Hopefully they weren't going very far.

Speaking of which. "Father, where are we going?"

Fugaku didn't answer. He just stared for a few moments, eyes thinking. Then he said, "I wanted to wait until you graduated the academy. But you've been improving quickly, I no longer wish to wait." A smile punctuated the end of his statement, a hint of somberness hiding behind it.

The child's eyes widened. Then a smirk graced his face.

Good, Fugaku was able to convince Itachi that he was being lead to an award. He hadn't _planned_ on deceiving the boy, really. But he'd suddenly been hit with a wave of preemptive guilt at the realization that he could potentially leave Itachi in a state of confusion and worry during his last few days. The building excitement would be good for him. It would keep him in-line, at least.

A high-pitched whining coming from below him caught his attention. He hushed the infant fussing around in the sling, gently patting his soft head. "Let's go," he whispered to Itachi.

That was the last thing either of them said to each other for the next 42 hours of travel, not that there was nothing to talk about. Fugaku was making an effort to distance himself a bit in preparation. And Itachi, well, all he had were questions to offer, but he held them down for the time being.

Eventually though, he wanted them answered. The obvious question he had before was first on his list, ' _Where are we going?_ ' Then he'd want to ask, ' _Why did you bring Sasuke?_ ' and then maybe, ' _Why did we have to leave in the middle of the night?_ '

But really, he could have asked those questions at any time. There wasn't _actually_ anything holding him back. Except for...his suspicions. Yes, Itachi tried to the best of his abilities to keep his mindset, well, childish. And despite his proficiency and overachieving efforts in training, he didn't want to grow-up just yet. But that didn't stop his developing instincts from seeing the situation for what it was; dubious.

But again, he will refrain.

* * *

In the heat of dusk on the second day, the silence between them was broken by, surprisingly, Fugaku. "Itachi," he said as he set down Sasuke's bag upon entering the room they'd rented in a small village for the night, "Would you like to hold you brother?"

Itachi's own bag slipped out of his fingers clumsily at the question. In the few weeks his brother had been alive, he had yet to get to hold him in his arms. He nodded hastily in response and clamored over to his father.

"No," Fugaku said with authority, holding up his hand. Itachi came to a halt right away and furrowed his brow. His father pointed at the bed closest to the bathroom door, "Sit on the bed first."

Itachi, now moving more calmly, did as his father instructed, tittering slightly in anticipation. After stripping himself of his outer gear, Fugaku settled in right next to him. Sasuke had been asleep for most of the day, just like any other day, but now he was starting to fuss and whine as he woke up. His eyelids still appeared swollen, accentuated heavily with the jutsu's effects. But even with that, the shine of his eyes peeked through brightly.

And Itachi _melted_.

It was at that moment that the boy also realized that he'd never been this close to his new brother before. Though he'd made the effort to sneak peeks at the newborn in his room despite his parents' instructions to 'give him space', he'd never actually gotten the chance to get within 2 meters of him.

Within a few seconds of waking, though, Sasuke erupted into a crying fit. Was he hungry? Uncomfortable? Bored?

"Alright," the father said, getting the boy's attention back, "Hold your arms like this." Fugaku shaped his arms around the baby's body, still in the sling, then held them out further from his body to give his eldest a better look.

The child was quick to mimic the formation, growing impatient.

Fugaku carefully undid the straps securing Sasuke to the sling and hoisted him out. "You want to rest his head in the crook of your arm and chest and give it a lot of support. The rest of his body gets supported by your forearm, and your other arm. His positioning should look like he's being held by the sling."

Itachi nodded silently, staring intensely at his brother with concentration. The exchange between arms was slow, but it went off smoothly despite Sasuke thrashing through his wake-up tantrum. The baby's body shivered with his wails and radiated a lot of heat.

"Good, good," Fugaku praised his son. "Now, make sure your hold is steady, but _gentle_... Good! Now try bouncing him a bit. That usually calms him down when he wakes up crying."

Itachi hummed quietly and followed the instructions. The jostling he started with was a bit too rough, and Fugaku had to intervene with his heart fluttering with a parent's panic. His eldest caught on pretty soon after that, though. And in no time, Sasuke was calm.

The two children locked eyes when the tears stopped, and it was like they were both put in a trance. Sasuke's eyes were opened wider than they'd ever been and Itachi's jaw was hanging open in awe. Then, Sasuke reached his hand out and waved it around. As if he'd known what the baby wanted, the older boy leaned his head down and let his younger brother grab onto the bang hanging off the side of his face. Honestly he'd expected the baby to try and put the lock of hair in his mouth. But no, he wasn't that lucky — he got a tug, instead. It was admittedly a harsh pull. Harsh enough to make the older boy wince and hold back a tear. But Itachi endured, and just smiled down at the other. Sasuke gave a toothless, open mouthed smile back and howled out a squeal that turned into a series of laughs.

Meanwhile, their father just contentedly watched his sons have their first bonding moment. First of many, hopefully. He was using all of the mental strength available to hone-in on the display.

He wanted this image to stay. He wanted it to stay beyond any memory, any knowledge, any semblance of cognitive thought that he'll ever have.

After an hour of letting the two brothers play around, Fugaku had to reign them in to feed Sasuke and put him to bed. In just that short time, Itachi got the chance to learn how to change the baby's diapers, and how to properly bottle feed him, and how to put him to sleep, and...

Fugaku's heart felt heavy in his chest as he gazed at the moon through the window with dead eyes.

* * *

They left the inn before sunrise. The morning air was a bit cold and irritated Sasuke enough to wake him several times within the first hour of travel. At one point, his tantrums got so bad that they had to stop.

It was during this time that Itachi finally decided to get his questions answered.

"Father," he started. But when his father looked up at him, his words got caught in his throat. He was suddenly a bit faint. As if there was something telling him that the answers he'd receive would just cause him...pain.

But it seemed that Itachi didn't have to continue, as his father did for him. "I know, my son...You've been keeping quiet this whole time, for your sake or mine. But I know you have... _reservations_ about this whole thing.— _Questions_..." His words wondered away from him, and he found himself averting his eyes.

Gods! He was a hardened shinobi! Everything to his core had been honed by disciplined training and unspeakable horrors with years of violent missions and battles in war! It shouldn't be so difficult for him to confront this!

And yet, he found himself shaken to the core with second thoughts, and it was only getting harder and harder by the second.

"... I'm sorry," Fugaku said after a long pause, "But...whatever questions you have for me will not be answered. But I will tell you one thing; when we make it to our destination, you will never see Konoha again. Not as long as I have anything to say about it."

Itachi gasped. His body from head to toe went cold and he couldn't stop himself from unconsciously stepping back. "I-I," he stuttered, "Y-You! This wasn't a gift, then? What are you even doing?! I mean, w-why!? I—" He sputtered on and on. Though he was already doubtful of his father's intentions, hearing those damning words come directly from his mouth made him crumble.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Itachi.—And I'm not going to hurt Sasuke either. Nobody's getting hurt here."

Fugaku glanced down at the baby in question. Then he hummed and lowered his voice upon seeing that the child was finally back to sleep. "I...had a feeling that you wouldn't remain deceived the whole time," he said with a weak voice, "In fact, I'm sure you weren't actually tricked in the first place. Am I right?"

Itachi swallowed.

"I _said_ you will not be hurt Itachi," Fugaku said with a frown. "Just... We're travelling all this way for yours and your brother's sake. But because of the _nature_ of what's to come, I can't tell you any more than that. Do you understand?"

Itachi didn't speak.

He didn't nod.

He did not trust the man in front of him anymore. Itachi didn't want to admit it, but he no longer felt safe around this person. His heart ached, but still he felt deep down that he'd never go back to the life he lived if he stayed with this newfound stranger he was seeing in his father. He needed to get out of here!—He needed to get his _brother_ out of here!

After a few moments, Itachi decided that the best course of action would be to start by giving a slow nod. But he was plotting. He had to be quick if he wanted to be able to get Sasuke back home safely. There was no way he'd be able to stand a chance in a fight against his father. He knew that. But, he also happened to know that some of the small villages around here had protection from Konoha ninja. If he could just draw some distance between them and make it to one of those villages, he could probably get them to fight for him while he continued to flee. Maybe even get someone to escort them back home.

Fugaku subtly eyed Itachi's fingers brush up against the weapons pack strapped to his little thigh, and sighed internally. He didn't want this to end up becoming a situation of force. But it looked like he wasn't going to have a choice.

Not wanting to waste time on a big show of power, the father quickly filtered through a short series of hand seals before his son could attempt his move. On cue, Itachi collapsed in a heap, unconscious. Sure, it wasn't ideal to have to carry both of his sons for that last day's worth of travel. But it was better than tying his child up. Better than seeing him struggle with fear and contempt.

The rest of the trip was surprisingly quiet. He didn't come across any ambushes from bandits, in fact he didn't see anybody. Itachi only had to be put unconscious twice, thankfully. Even Sasuke was somehow more cooperative — no crying or fussing at all, holding still while being changed, going back to sleep very quickly. It was as if the whole world was yielding to him, wary of stopping his advances.

He hated it.

Then finally, he was there. Well, using the word ' _there_ ' would be a bit misleading. It implied that this place was predetermined. A more accurate thing to say would be, ' _this is far enough_ '.

The village he stopped at was one of no real title. The place was a bit bigger than most of the other small villages they'd stopped in, but every building was wooden and dreadfully shoddy and the 'streets' were unmanicured and bumpy. The residents all looked to be persistently agitated, possibly from his intrusion, possibly for the fact that they had to live here. Some houses were large, baring signs that the occupants built additions on the structures on their own. Others were essentially standing wooden boxes with squares of wood cut out of them. And a lot of them held no evident signs of having an actual owner.

It was in one of these box-houses that Fugaku finally sat his eldest son down and began unpacking what he intended to leave behind.

The diaper bag was the first to leave his person, and he sighed in relief when the heavy thing left his shoulder. After that was a single kunai from the weapons pack Itachi was previously carrying. Then lastly, his younger son. He was grateful that Sasuke was still asleep as he carefully placed the sling onto Itachi's unconscious body.

There was so much that Fugaku wanted to do just then as he stared at the children. He wanted to stay with them longer. He wanted to explain to them what was going on. He wanted apologize a thousand times, then a million times more. Wanted to wrap them into his arms and say goodbye. Wanted to throw away his plans, pack everything back up, and take them back home and pretend like this never happened. But no. He knew, he knew that if he did anything other than what he was supposed to do, right now, he would never let them go. Ever.

He lifted his hands, and began the sequence of hand seals.

* * *

Another day, another escape from the crowd to the familiar solitude. It was starting to become routine for Mikoto.—Suddenly fleeing off to be alone somewhere and cry, that is. The act itself wasn't embarrassing to her. But the fact that everyone around her knew when and why she was doing it, very much was.

She could hear their whispers — not verbally, but in the way the people of the village conducted themselves around her. Their empathetic eyes. Their sad, assuaging smiles. The way they softened their voices whenever they saw her. ' _Poor woman_ ,' their faces said, ' _pity the sad Uchiha woman, she's running out of time_ '. It made her sick. But at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to resent them all. She'd become a pathetic husk. How could they help but treat her like a fragile doll? She had been acting like one.—She _was_ one.

How long could she go on like this? That was the question that had been lingering on her mind lately, and she couldn't shake it. Was this a life? Could she really say she was living at this point? She never had the energy to actually search for an answer. But, in a way, that _was_ an answer. Wasn't it?

And her husband... If there was one thing she was sure about anymore, it was that she _hated_ him now. It wasn't anything he did, but rather, what he _wasn't_ doing. Here she was, suffering. And there he was, indifferent. Her heart was shattered to pieces, and all he did was work, work, work! Had he even talked to her since _then_?—Had he even looked at her? She couldn't remember at this point.

It was one night at the dinner table when she finally snapped.

They were eating in complete silence, save for the sounds of their utensils hitting their plates and the wildlife scampering around outside. _He_ was reading over a mission scroll, again. Of course he was! When was the last time he _hadn't_ done that?

Mikoto slammed her hands on the table and stood up from her seat, knocking it over. Fugaku didn't even react. No, he just HAD to keep reading the damn scroll! Mikoto yelled, "Look at me!"

He glanced up at her for a second, then looked back down. "What?" he asked flatly, tone sounding more like a statement.

His wife ground her teeth. " _You_... WHY ARE YOU SO UNAFFECTED?" No response. "LOOK AT ME!"

An even louder bang rang through the room just then when Fugaku slammed his own fist onto the table. The mission scroll jumped and rolled onto the floor from the disturbance, only to get kicked away when the man shot up from his seat and stomped his way over to his wife's side of the table. Mikoto did not move from her spot as she glared at her approaching spouse. In seconds, Fugaku came to an abrupt stop beside her. "You think I'm unaffected?!" he hissed, voice stern and icey.

She glared harder.

"You think I wanted to lose them, or something? You think you're the only one hurt?! Well you're _not_ , Mikoto!" The room simmered in silence. Heat seemed to build up during their tense standoff, but they paid it no mind in favor of exchanging bitter glares. "There's nothing we can do about it now, Mikoto! They're both gone!"

The woman flinched at his cutting words. She took a heated step forward and slapped him, yelling, "How could you speak so callously about it?! They didn't just walk off on their own one day, they died! I've lost two babies, Fug—"

"So have I!" he interrupted, "... So have I... And my silence isn't because I don't care, I just don't... I-It's just that I..." He sighed.

Again, deafening silence overtook them, and they just stood there. But somehow, Mikoto felt comforted by the conflict. It pained her that they were butting heads, but she felt like they were at least getting somewhere. He was actually speaking to her, looking at her. They were actually talking about the subject that's been plaguing their lives with misery for the past two months!—Or rather, _5 years_ , really.

Mikoto was the next one to speak, whispering with a broken voice, "Two stillbirths Fugaku—" She interrupted herself with a quiet gasp when her husband whipped around in the other direction. "Don't turn away from me! _Please_ , stop walking away from me!"

But he ignored her. He just paced around the room haphazardly, keeping his back to her, hands frantically kneading his hair and face in exasperation. Pathetic groans and whimpers kept spilling from his mouth. Words like ' _why did I_ ' and ' _there could've been a better way_ ' broke through at some points in his sputtering, but Mikoto couldn't make any sense of it.

Mikoto tried taking a step toward him to get his attention back. But then, he stopped. And she stopped in turn. His back was still facing her as he slowly let his arms drop back down to his sides.

"Are you coming to bed tonight, or are you sleeping in _there_ again?" he asked with an oddly calm voice.

Mikoto stared silently, aghast. "F-Fu-Fugaku...?"

He didn't wait for her to say anything else. With some speed, the man gathered the mission scroll off the floor, placed his unfinished meal on the counter next to the sink, and took off into the hall. "I have to leave early tomorrow. Whatever you choose to do, I won't wait up," he called out as he retreated from the room.

The wife stood there, completely still for a while. She stood there long after the food went cold, long after the rest of the homes in their compound went dark for the night, long after the critters outside went to sleep themselves. When her wits finally came back to her, she felt...numb.

All there really was left for her to do was go to bed.

So she packed up the half-eaten dinners into the fridge. She washed the dishes and left them to dry. She walked past the door leading to the _monster_ in her home and entered the empty nursery at the end of the hall. She fell to the floor beside the untouched crib. And she cried herself to sleep,

again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing the last part of this chapter. Writing stuff dealing with emotions is really fun.
> 
> I originally didn't plan on adding that part in, but then I realized how little of a part Mikoto played in this. It didn't make sense that there wasn't any focus on her at all up to that point, all things considered.
> 
> Anyway, if everything goes well, this fic should get updated once every 1 - 2 weeks.


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